Vhen'alas
by Asirus
Summary: Lyna and Zevran grow close as the Warden searches for the Dalish. She names him friend, but will he be satisfied with that, or push for more? Will the assassin be able to let himself care for someone again?
1. Uthenara

_So "song" is from the "In Uthenara" codex entry. And I was listening to a song called "I am the One", from the soundtrack, when I wrote this. (That's how I was imagining her voice for the singing, if you were curious.) You can youtube it pretty easy. Just look for "dragon age + I am the one"._

_Watch out for spoilers, though probably not until chapter 3 or so. Please let me know if I like, forget words or destroy the english language or anything.  
_

_**Disclaimer:** As always, Bioware owns everything good, including Dragon age and Zevran and all that stuff._

* * *

**Lyna**

_One week after Zevran joins the Wardens on their mission to stop the blight._

Lyna was sitting on the grass with her back against a large tree, just outside the camp, singing softly to herself as she scanned the trees for signs of danger. It was approximately two in the morning; second watch. Nobody else ever wanted second watch, since whoever did it got the least rest. Lyna didn't mind. Having her sleep broken up into four hour segments meant she couldn't slip so deeply into the nightmares. She hadn't told anyone that this was why she insisted on taking the watch every thing, but nobody really complained. She was slightly tense, since she had asked Zevran to keep watch with her tonight... that was why she was singing. Singing calmed her. She wasn't sure when he was going to make his appearance, but she was sure he'd say something outrageous when he did. He had been with them about a week, and so far she hadn't once managed to speak to him without the assassin causing her to blush to some degree. It was _maddening._ She knew the others would not approve of her damnable infatuation, or whatever this was... well, except for Leliana maybe. The girl was remarkably worldly for a cloistered sister. Lyna decided to get to know the bard better. Perhaps the human would even teach her some new songs!

Her mind drifted back to when she had asked him to join her...

_...flashback, dusk, that day._

_Lyna heard Zevran step up behind her as she set up her tent. She liked that he made an effort to make noise when he approached her unaware. In fact, he did that for all of the ragtag group, perhaps not wanting to ruffle any feathers and lose his head. She threw him a look over her shoulder when he cleared his throat. Hmm, he looked serious. That was new._

_"What is it, Zevran? Is there a problem?" The Warden continued setting up her tent, wanting to get the horrible chore out of the way so she could rest her feet._

_There was a pause, and then he said quietly, "Well, not exactly a problem, per se. More of a request." She waited, and then chuckled, asking, "Well spit it out Zevran. In the week since we've been traveling together you've hardly minced words."_

_She heard a chuckle behind her, though it sounded slightly strained. Hmm, maybe it was more serious then she thought. Finally done with her tent, the slender elf stood and was about to turn around when she heard, "Very well. I would like my blades and other equipment back, if I may, my dear Warden." She froze for an instant, vaguely surprised. Was that all? She turned to face him, a faint smile on her lips. She noted his guarded expression, trying to hide her amusement; what did he think she was going to do, shoot him for such a simple request? Just out of curiosity, she stretched out the conversation._

_"And why do you want your weapons, exactly?" Lyna asked the question softly, masking her amusment at his vaguely uncomfortable expression. Aha! How the tables have turned you blasted elf. Make me blush every two minutes on purpose, will you!?_

_"Well, if I am not to be a weapon for you, defending your life with my blades, what am I here for? You have not made me do any menial chores like shine armor, though I did offer such. I feel rather useless without my weapons, just standing around looking pretty, as it were." He said all this with a furrow in his brow. Lyna could not restrain her grin any longer and smirked widely at him, mimicking his accent as she said, "Oh but you do it so well, my dear Zevran!"_

_He blinked at her, clearly surprised by her tone, and her words. For once he appeared to be at a loss for words. **Bloody fantastic**, oh this day was wonderful. Giggling, Lyna reached into her tent and tossed him his pack, his sword and dagger strapped to it and clearly visible. Delighted to have the advantage for once, she smiled at him and said, "Of course you can have your weapons back Zevran. It's been a whole week and you haven't tried to murder us all even once, and I'm sure we gave you plenty of chances." She paused, watching him as he strapped on his weapon harness, his blades forming a cross on his back. "And perhaps you would like some more responsibility as well? You may take second watch with me if you like." AH! Surprise again. This day was awesome._

_"Marvelous idea, my dear Grey Warden." He had dipped into a short bow, and Lyna just smiled and went off to get some dinner before turning in for some much needed rest._

Lyna continued to sing softly, her mind on the assassin as she kept watch over the camp. She heard a twig snap behind her, and she turned her head, a faint smile on her lips.

* * *

**Zevran**

Zevran was standing in the shadows just beyond the tree where Lyna sat, mesmerized, as she scanned the forest. It wasn't the way the moonlight broke through the canopy to highlight her cheekbones or how the breeze ruffled her hair - her glorious ebony hair which was out of its usual messy bun for once, falling in silky looking waves to just below her shoulders. No... she was singing softly to herself. He didn't recognize the language, but the song sounded sad. Her voice, which was melodic and lilting even when she was angry, sent shivers down his spine as she sang.

_"Hahren na melana sahlin  
__emma ir abelas  
souver'inan isala hamin  
vhenan him dor'felas__  
in uthenera na revas_

_vir sulahn'nehn  
vir dirthera  
vir samahl la numin  
vir lath sa'vunin"_

When she fell silent, Zevran realized he had been standing there for several minutes and perhaps _now_ would be a good time to breathe. He drew in a shaky breath and stepped forward, purposefully snapping a twig as he approached the sentry. It was not a good idea to surprise someone who was standing watch for the night, after all. She turned her head, her full lips turning up slightly when she caught sight of him. Maker, she was lovely.

"You are rather enchanting, my dear Warden. What was that you were singing just now?" he asked, keeping his voice low and drawing out his words, hoping to incite that delightful blush. _Ah_, there it was!_ Marvelous_. He sat down on her left, his back against the wide trunk of the tree and his shoulder just touching hers, a faint smirk playing around his lips.

* * *

**Lyna**

_Damnit how did he do that._ Clearly it was on purpose, horrible Antivan bastard... _Oh well... _Lyna cleared her throat and tried to ignore her burning face and the faintly spicy scent he had that she had not noticed before; they hadn't been this close since the day they met, and at the time the everything had smelled like death.

"It was a song of Uthenera..." She spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the camp, her violet eyes on him. She noticed his blank expression and raised one delicate eyebrow. "Uthenera. Have you not heard of it?" The Antivan gazed into her eyes and shrugged, and she gained a thoughtful expression. "Hmm... how to explain..." She tilted her head back against the tree and looked up at the canopy, catching a glimpse of the stars through a break in the leaves.

* * *

**Zevran**

Zevran stared at her as she considered, his eyes tracing the lines of her tattoos, the curve of her delicately pointed ear, the line of her neck as she leaned back against the tree. He could see the unusual violet color of her eyes as she stared up through the canopy. The assassin wondered if her hair was as soft as it looked. _Maker,_ did she smell nice... like wildflowers. Perhaps this was a good night to resume his attempts to talk her into his bed...

Suddenly, she began to speak, her voice low and lilting. "In ancient times, when our people were free, the Elvhenan were immortal. Our ancestors lived for thousands of years. In time, the elders would grow tired of life, and would step aside to allow a younger generation to take their place." She paused and turned to look at him, her eyes wistful. When she spoke, her voice held an unusual cadence, as if she was telling a story she well loved, but also reciting a tale etched into her memory for a purpose. "Uthenera is the Waking Sleep. Those elders who wished to step aside would prepare themselves, and then enter chambers that were half bedroom, half tomb, and enter Uthenara. They would slip into a slumber from which they would not awake for centuries, often never. In time, their bodies would deteriorate and the elder would know true death..." The elf paused again, her violet eyes fixed to the Antivan's golden ones. "As you can imagine, such rituals are no longer observed, not since the quickening was brought to us by the shemlen. We try to maintain as much of the old lore as we can, though."

Zevran was mesmerized yet again as the woman dropped a piece of his own history into his mind. His mother was Dalish, after all... Donning a playful smirk, the assassin whispered, "Ah my dear, such melancholy I see in your beautiful eyes. Surely we must speak on other topics, it pains me to see an enchantress such as yourself look so sad." She blinked at him and blushed again, her eyes sparkling in the faint moonlight.

"_Shameless_, you are. Fine then. Tell me of Antiva?" Zevran grinned at her choice of topic. And so they passed their watch - a full four hours - with the assassin spinning tales of Antiva and some of his earlier missions with the Crows. He spoke of Antiva City, where he grew up. He told her of the flowers and the leather; he laughed when she asked if his missing the leather was some sort of euphemism. Throughout it all, Zevran sprinkled compliments and he occasionally brushed against her side or rested his fingertips on her arm._ Baby steps_, he decided. He usually avoided women who required such patience, but he suspected this one would be worth the wait. He was amazed at her interest in his past; his few encounters with Dalish elves had been brief, but none had expressed much interest in anything beyond their own clan. Perhaps it was because her current "clan" was the Grey Wardens, which consisted of a single other member at the moment.

* * *

**Lyna**

When their watch came to an end, Zevran stood up quickly and offered her his hand, his amber eyes warm as he gazed down at her. Lyna smiled and reached up, eyes sparkling as she accepted his aid; she inhaled sharply when he pulled rather harder then necessary, causing her to stumble against his chest as his arms came up around her to keep her from falling. She blinked and looked up at him, her palm against the middle of his chest. She could feel his heart beating under her hand, and thought perhaps he had an irregular heartbeat when she felt it stutter slightly. One of his hands rested lightly on the small of her back, the other was warm against the skin of her arm. _Oh blast_, was he going to kiss her? Did she want him to? Surely she shouldn't let him do such a thing. They had only known each other for a week! She should back up. _Why wouldn't her legs move?!_

Lyna felt her face grow hot as she stared up at the Antivan, the faint scent of spices filling her nose as she failed to pull away for a what felt like forever. She couldn't seem to look away from his gold-colored eyes, and she shivered slightly when his hand came up to touch her cheek. She couldn't read the look on his face; it wasn't his usual playful look, or the flirtatiously leering one he gave when he was making his outrageous comments. This one was softer... _more dangerous_. He gently brushed her hair back behind her ear, his fingers leaving lines of fire on her skin as he whispered, "We should both get some sleep, my dear Warden." And then he stepped away, slowly, a faintly knowing look in his eyes as he watched her. Lyna blinked and picked up her bow, nodding in agreement and not trusting her voice. She didn't notice when he smirked quietly behind her as they went to wake up Alistair for his turn at watch, nor did she notice how his eyes lingered on her form when she slipped into her tent.

* * *

_Shortish chapter, I'm just skipping ahead in their... courtship, or whatever. Chapter 2 is a little longer but just more character/relationship development. There will probably be more action in Chapter 3. That is as far as my planning goes for this part of the story. :P_


	2. Joining

_Disclaimer: As always, Bioware owns everything good, including Dragon age and Zevran and all that stuff._

* * *

**Zevran**

_Two weeks after Zevran joins the Wardens on their mission to stop the blight._

Zevran had been joining the Dalish Grey Warden each night when she awoke for her turn at watch, spending the few hours chatting companionably with her, telling her stories of his _'adventures' _as she called them; every so often he would push a little, perhaps pulling her into his arms as he did that first time he joined her watch, or leaning in to whisper against the skin of her sensitive ear. He felt he was making good progress. She seemed to be quite comfortable with him now, and it was becoming more difficult - or at least, not as easy - to coax out a blush from the slender elf. But the assassin was troubled. He found himself looking forward to their talks each night, and not for those occasionally pushes against her resistance. Zevran found he simply enjoyed her company... It was perplexing.

During the day, the party was trekking endlessly through the Brecilian Forest, looking for one of the Dalish Clans. The assassin could tell that most of the group was getting tired of the search; after all, they had seen no sign of the elves since they had begun the search, and everyone wondered how much longer they would be at it before their elven leader gave up. But Zevran knew she was not planning on giving up. She had mentioned the night previous that she was following signs of one the Clans, and that it would be a matter of days before they caught up. Lyna suspected that the reason it was taking so long was because nearly all of the Clans would have moved north by now, avoiding the darkspawn boiling up from the south.

And so it was that the Antivan Crow found himself, once again, slipping out of his tent in the rather menacing forest sometime after two in the morning, seeking out the Warden who had held his life in her slender hands, and then had simply given it back. Lingered briefly in the center of the camp, his mind dwelling on the unfamiliar rush of emotion he felt when he thought about the beguiling Warden. What _was_ this? The closest he could remember to this sensation was with Taliesin in the years before... before his last mission with the Crows. But even that had been tinged with wary caution. Was this what friendship was supposed to be? He had never felt such a thing in his years in Antiva. Zevran found himself in the uncomfortable position of trusting the slender Dalish elf as much as he desired her. He didn't think he liked it. It was probably unhealthy. Oh well... perhaps if he managed to bed the woman he'd feel better. Finally the assassin moved, doing his best to focus his thoughts as he looked for where the woman kept watch.

He found her sitting, her legs crossed and her back against a massive oak with her violet eyes closed as she listened to the forest. She looked up when she heard him approach, a warm smile gracing her pink lips as she said, "Ah, there you are lethalline. I was beginning to wonder if perhaps you were planning on catching up with your beauty sleep tonight."

"Oh but you wound me, my dear Warden! To imply that I need any such catching up is most disheartening!" Zevran clutched his chest in mock agony, privately thrilled at her teasing tone. He grinned when he earned a melodic giggle for his antics, and sat against the tree next to her; as usual, he sat closer then necessary, their shoulders brushing against each other. "But what was that you called me, my beautiful Lyna? Nothing bad, I hope?"

"Oh!" The Warden blushed. And he wasn't even trying that time! _Marvelous_. "Ahem... _Lethalline_. It is a... uh... term of endearment. A word used between friends among our people. You.. do not mind, do you?" She gazed at him, a faint furrow in her brow and her lovely eyes looking vaguely concerned. He stared at her. Did she actually considered him a friend? An actual friend? The word had slipped from her tongue clearly without thought, and she was not a manipulative woman, he knew. It was not feigned. Why yes, it appeared she did. He could not remember the last person who had called him friend who hadn't been trying to get something from him. It was alarming. Perhaps he should stop dwelling on it. Oh, and maybe he should answer her before she thought he was upset with her choice of words and Maker she was looking more and more concerned the longer he stared. _Damnit, say something!  
_  
The assassin cleared his throat, the surprise still evident in his eyes as he murmured, "Oh, not at all, my dear. You may call me whatever you wish." Her relief was clear in the brilliant smile she gifted him, and he found himself staring again, his mind wandering back to his insistent thoughts of trust.

* * *

**Lyna**

Lyna noticed the surprise in Zevran's amber eyes when she explained the meaning of lethalline. She wasn't sure what the surprise was for. Did he not consider himself worthy of friendship? She knew he had had a hard life, after all the stories he had told her, but_ honestly._.. It was infuriating how little he seemed to actually value himself. Oh sure, he was cocky and shameless, but each time she spotted one of these hidden reactions, she was reminded that it was just a mask he wore. The Warden found herself feeling curious about what was under it, and she wondered if he'd ever let her get close enough to see his real face. She was beginning to suspect that there was quite a lot more to this Antivan Crow then he let on. Perhaps more then he even knew of himself.

* * *

**Zevran**

Trying to focus his thoughts, the assassin said, "Well, the past several nights we've spoken of little but glorious Antiva and my..._ adventures,_ as you call them. So tell me, how is it you became a Grey Warden? It is not common among the Dalish, is it?"

Zevran felt her tense beside him when he asked the question, her eyes lightening slightly to a pale lavender. Hmm... not anger this time. Sadness perhaps? He lowered his voice, "Worry not, my dear. If the topic is a sensitive one, please disregard my curiosity." The Antivan was surprised yet again when she shook her head and took his hand in her own, resting their clasped hands in her lap. She didn't often touch him, and she had never held his hand. She began drawing little designs on the back of his hand with the tip of a slender finger. His hand tingled where she touched him, her fingertip leaving little trails of what felt like cold fire. He stared at their joined hands and waited for her to speak.

The Warden's voice was somewhat stilted when she finally opened her mouth. "Tamlen and I were Clanmates, before I joined the Wardens. We went everywhere together, being no more then a month apart in age. Many assumed that when the time was right, we would be bound to each other as life mates. Husband and Wife." Lyna paused, her eyes on their hands as she trailed her finger absently across his skin.

"We were hunting near our camp when we came across some unusual quarry. Three humans. Tamlen accused them of banditry, but they claimed they had been searching some cave ruins nearby for treasure, when they were attacked by a 'demon'. They gave us a trinket from the ruins, it had writing on it. We thought it looked like written elvish. If it was, and there was more in the cave, then this was a remarkable find. There is very little written elvish left, and we Dalish strive to collect any scraps we can."

Zevran did not like the nearly emotionless tone of her voice as she spoke, nor did he like how she was reciting the events as if reading a shopping list. He felt sure that this was not going to be a happy story. Unthinking, he squeezed her hand gently, his eyes on her face.

"We scared the shems off, then went looking for the cave at Tamlen's insistence. I wanted to return to the Keeper. I did not like the sound of this 'demon' the humans claimed was in the cave. I doubted it was a demon, but it was likely that the cave was not safe. Tamlen wouldn't hear of it, and wanted to see if there were more artifacts in the cave before we returned to the Clan. And so we went. I was right. There were giant spiders in the front of the cave. They were little threat... but deeper in we found... undead things. Walking corpses that attacked us on sight, moaning and shambling and hacking wildly with swords and axes held in rotting fingers."

The elf shuddered and closed her violet eyes. Without hesitating to consider his actions, Zevran pulled his right hand free and put his arm around her, pulling her against his side and placing his lips against the top of her head. She dropped her head on his shoulder and sighed, taking his left hand now to resume her absent doodling.

"We managed to dispatch the... things... and Tamlen insisted on checking what looked like the main room of the little underground complex. We found the... demon thing in there. It was a blighted bear, all spikes and rage and glowing eyes. We were able to defeat the creature as well, though only barely. In the room we found the bear in, there was a mirror. It was a mirror unlike anything we had seen; tall and wide, completely clean, without a scratch or fracture or speck of dust, despite the fact that it had been sharing a room with an angry bear and who knows what else for however long..."

Lyna frowned and lowered her head, her cheek pressed against the assassin's chest as he absently ran his free hand across her back, attempting to sooth her. Her words painted a vision in his mind, clearly seeing the struggle with the undead creatures and the massive bear-thing as he gazed down at her. They sat that way for a few moments, and Zevran did not push her for the rest of the story, suspecting that she would tell him when she was ready. He pulled her left hand up to his lips and kissed her fingertips briefly, silently waiting for her to tell him the rest.

Finally, the slender woman shuddered, and resumed speaking, her voice low and missing its usual lilt. "I told Tamlen that we should return to camp and inform the Keeper at once. I did not like the mirror. Tamlen wanted a closer look. He said he saw something moving in it. He climbed the steps up the narrow dais the mirror stood upon, his eyes fixed on it. I followed, feeling uneasy, a few paces behind him. I wanted to snatch him away from the thing, but I did not. I just watched. He said he saw things, some darkness in the mirror. Then he reached out and touched it and I saw the mirrors surface ripple like silvered water. I should have pulled him away, but I just watched. He said the darkness could see him, that he could not look away, but by then I was frozen and could not pull him back. A darkness burst forth from the mirror and threw us both across the room and I must have stumbled out of the cave, but I do not remember it. I remember seeing Duncan's face, hearing him say he was sorry. And then I awoke in the camp. Keeper said I had been unconscious for two days, sick with something that resisted her healing magics. Tamlen had not been found."

She took in a slow, deep breath before she continued. Zevran again pressed his lips against the top of her head, unsure of how to comfort the slender elf. He knew how to woo and seduce, how to distill a poison that would kill in seconds or one that would have the victim linger for days. He could dance through a wild melee and receive nary a scratch, but leave dead and crippled enemies in his wake. But he had never received training on how to be a friend, how to console a wounded heart. Zevran felt... ill-equipped, to say the least. "Keeper sent me and her First back to the cave to find him. We did not. We found only darkspawn and Duncan, who told us we would not find Tamlen. I wanted to keep looking, but Duncan said it was useless, that Tamlen was likely dead from the same sickness that I still carried, as he had been alone for two days without tending. He told me I was sick, that he knew a cure for my illness, and that we must return to the Clan immediately so he could discuss it with the Keeper. The First and I argued with him, both of us wanting to keep searching, but he was adamant that Tamlen was gone. He destroyed the cursed mirror, saying that it was an old Tevinter artifact that had become tainted with the same darkness that made the darkspawn."

Lyna paused again, then looked up at him, her eyes pale lavender, but her face impassive. Zevran marveled at her ability to mask her emotions, but as he held her, he was not fooled. He could feel her trembling. He wanted to kiss her, but now was hardly the time. She whispered, "Duncan said I was tainted, that I would sicken and die, or worse, turn into some sort of ghoul, if I did not go through with what he called the Joining; it was the ritual that made a person into a Grey Warden. Keeper did not want to send me away, nor did I want to leave the Clan, but we both saw little choice..." The woman dropped her gaze, again resting her head on the Antivan's shoulder. "We stayed long enough for me to attend Tamlen's service, and then Duncan took me to Ostagar and put me through the ritual. There were two other recruits. They both died in the Joining."

Zevran shuddered slightly, not sure how to respond to the terrible tale. He felt a sadness that had nothing to do with his own situation, but was wholly sympathetic with the elf at his side. He wasn't sure what to do, so he just tightened his arm around her slightly. They sat that way for long minutes, and Zevran felt his lack of preparation keenly; perhaps it was time to improvise. Relaxing slightly, the assassin leaned back, his left hand moving up to cup her chin, forcing her to look at him. He offered her a faint smile and whispered, "Ah, my poor Warden. It is a sad tale you tell. I am sorry for your lost friend, and for your lost Clan. Though, I am sure they would not want you to dwell upon them, but instead to think of all the marvelous things you have done since you left them. The friends you have made, people you have saved..." He let his smile spread into a smirk. "... and spared."

* * *

**Lyna**

Lyna stared up at the assassin as she considered his words. How comfortable she was, leaning against his side; his arm was warm as it cradled her and his fingertips were gentle on her chin. She knew he was right, that her old Clan would not want her to linger sadly on mistakes of the past. She had done a great many things since she had left her home. Many people would be dead if she hadn't been there with her companions... her unusual collection of friends... And suddenly she was aware of how close her face was to his as she looked up into his beautiful amber eyes. A faint blush spread across her cheeks, but she did not pull away. She felt her eyes grow wide when he moved his hand to brush the hair off her face, his fingers gentle as he pushed the ebony locks behind her ear. Lyna could not suppress a shiver as his fingers grazed the sensitive skin on her ear. Oh gods this was a horrible idea she should definitely move. _But she couldn't move_. She was like a rabbit that had just spotted the wolf.

* * *

**Zevran**

Zevran gazed down at her, pleased that his words seem to have the effect he wished when her eyes resumed their normal color as she looked at him. Unable to resist, he brushed her hair behind her ear, his fingers deliberately grazing the tip of her ear. _Ah, such a delightful blush!_ And yet, she did not pull away. She just stared up at him, her violet eyes shifting color again, this time darkening slightly. Oh? That was new. He had not seen that particular color before, but he liked it. Her eyes looked soft, warm. Welcoming. _Oh, _well so much for baby steps. He was going to have to take the plunge eventually after all... And besides, she was so very warm in his arms and she didn't seem to object to their current... position.

Zevran ran his fingers through her hair again, secretly delighting in the shiver when he grazed her ear with the palm of his hand. He leaned down, his hand cupping the side of her face and his right arm still cradling her against him, palm against her side, and kissed her lightly, his lips barely brushing against hers. She shuddered in his arms and slowly snaked her right hand up his chest, her fingers curling around one of the straps on his armor.

Zevran grinned inwardly and kissed her again, this time more firmly_. Maker_ but did she smell good. He teased her lips with his tongue, and she sighed against his mouth. He took advantage of the opening and swept his tongue against hers, surprised when she didn't startle, but instead returned the kiss with equal passion. _What a surprising little minx! _She tasted like honey, and the assassin lost himself a little as her arms curled up around his neck, her fingers in his hair; she moaned quietly as he brushed his hand along her spine, his left hand moving down to caress her breast through her enticing Tevinter armor. He felt his control slip briefly when her fingertips brushed along his own pointed ear, and he pulled her into his lap; she broke off the kiss with a ragged breath and her head dropped back, her fingers still dancing through his hair. He kissed along her throat, unable to hide his smirk as he felt her frantic pulse, and ran his hand down her body, coming to rest on her hip. She shivered again, then opened her eyes and looked at him, her lips rosy from his kisses and her cheeks flushed.

_By Andraste_, her eyes were a deep, dark blue-violet. She looked like a goddess again, a shaft of moonlight slipping through the trees to illuminate her from behind, the misty air giving her a silver-white aura.

* * *

**Lyna**

Lyna stared at the Antivan, feeling flushed and unsure after their... not so chaste kiss. His expression was one she had not seen before. He looked almost worshipful, his golden eyes warm and unguarded as he gazed at her, his fingers running up and down her spine as she sat cradled in his lap. Strange. She thought she would feel.. used... if she let him kiss her, but she did not. His hands were gentle, and she just felt... well... _cherished._ Which was rather surprising, considering his endless boasts. Maybe it would end horribly, but since they were all probably going to die in some terrible manner anyway, perhaps this wasn't such a terrible idea after all.

The Dalish smiled faintly as she considered the time. Her watch was over about... ten minute ago. She should definitely get up and wake Sten before he got up and found her in this... somewhat compromising position. If it was Alistair, she wouldn't worry since he'd just blush furiously and sputter at them and then go wander off to keep watch in a slightly different part of the woods... but Sten would disapprove. The Warden had not yet figured out how to get along with the imposing Qunari... So it was best not to do things he disapproved of. _At least not where he could see it_, she thought with a smirk.

* * *

**Zevran**

Zevran stared in amazement as Lyna first smiled, then smirked broadly. He wondered what she was thinking. Clearly she was not uncomfortable with his rather forward behavior, and this was good. He had been getting tired of baby steps. Suddenly, she pulled himself out of his arms and stood. She stretched slightly in the moonlight and turned back to look down at him. She whispered, "We should go wake Sten for his watch." He blinked. Had it been that long already? Why, so it had. And then she did the most amazing thing. Just like the day they met, she reached down and offered him a hand. Again, she was lit by the sky, though this time by the soft silver-white of the moon, and her eyes, unlike last time, were dark and blue-violet and warm. He stared at her, then took her hand let her pull him up as he grinned, saying, "You know... somewhere, my life took a rather strange turn. I am not sure that this is a bad thing though, considering my company."

Amazingly, she blushed. He just laughed and pulled her into his arms, his lips finding hers easily as she leaned into him. They stood that way for a moment, entwined with each other, but then she pushed him away with a hand on his chest, saying, "No really, we should wake Sten." He clutched his chest in mock agony. "You crush my delicate heart, my fair Warden, but it will be as you say." She smiled and led the way back to camp. She held his hand the whole way, but dropped it when they entered the faint glow from the dying fire. She stirred up the embers and then went to wake Sten, but not before pushing him off towards his tent. He tossed her a leering grin and went, expecting no less, but very much looking forward to his future nights with the lovely Grey Warden.

* * *

**Lyna**

The elven Warden slipped into her tent after making sure Sten was awake for his watch. She lay down on her bedroll, feeling somewhat conflicted, her fingers against her lips as her thoughts focused on the Antivan Crow. Lyna thought about all the things they talked about during their nights on watch; he told her the most marvelous stories about Antiva, his accented voice creeping into her brain and drawing pictures there with words. The woman had reciprocated as well as she could... she told him about what she had done as a Grey Warden before he had been sent to kill them; she told him about all the people they had helped in Lothering and Denerim and about the search for Brother Genitivi when they were in the capital. He had questioned her about the brother, and she had admitted that she felt somehow that the task of curing this Arl Eamon would inevitably fall to her. And then he had asked about becoming a Grey Warden. She had not told anyone about Tamlen, not even Alistair who was her friend, brother and clanmate. But she had told Zevran, almost without hesitation, and she had been comforted by his arm around her and his kind words and his soft eyes...

Why did he have to kiss her and turn everything upsidedown? Oh, it was fantastic, the kisses, the touching. Even the banter afterwards was lovely. Comforting and playful and a little dangerous, making her forget about her sad memories almost immediately... but it was a_ terrible _idea. Lyna enjoyed having a friend in Zevran, but she did not want it to become more then that. The Dalish knew she would only become attached and then inevitably have her heart broken. Or worse, she would break through his defensive shell and then somehow break_ his_ heart. Not that she suspected such a thing was easily accomplished, but the very idea of hurting her new friend in any way made the slender elf frown and roll over, her fist hitting the ground in frustration.

Tired and not wanting to dwell on her confusing thoughts any longer, Lyna closed her eyes and tried to meditate; she hoped to slip for once into a dreamless sleep, not wanting to see the Archdemon screaming in her mind.

* * *

_Ah forward progress! Hooray. Next chapter will have some actiony bits in it, I think._


	3. Witherfang

_So I'll admit I wasn't quite sure how I wanted to start this chapter... (thus the delay). And then I got distracted writing a large chunk of a scene for a different story I haven't even really planned yet. (The scene in question is after the Warden turns down the earring the first time and then they have a heart to heart. So far the scene is super mushy - in an adorable way I hope - and I'm not sure how far I'm going to push the make-outsexytime in it. We''ll see. It doesn't take place till after you activate the landsmeet part anyway, so I'm not sure when I'll put it up.)_

_Bleh, and this chapter was actually ready yesterday but it wouldn't upload for some reason...  
_

_I also decided to handle the flashbacks in this chapter a little differently, if only because they cover several days worth of events and I wanted to break them up into sort of like... snapshots. Let me know how it turns out, since I'm biased. :P_

_edit: Went through and fixed a couple things. In my rush to get out the chapter, I failed to proof-read it like 8 times as usual, so I missed a couple things. Mostly just word tenses and I tweaked a bit around the part with Zathrian.  
_

_**Disclaimer:** As always, Bioware owns everything good, including Dragon age and Zevran and all that stuff._

* * *

**Lyna**

Lyna Mahariel, proud member of the Dalish elves, one of the last remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden, was a coward.

She was hiding in her tent. Hiding and trying to not think - which was not working in the slightest - of the night before and the horrible, wonderful feeling of Zevran's arms around her, the taste of him. Yes, definitely not working. She was blushing just thinking about it and wasn't sure what she would do if she actually had to see him, let alone _speak_ to him. And so she was hiding like a coward. The Warden could hear the camp stirring; Leliana was making something for breakfast that smelled rather fantastic, and Alistair was grumbling about how nobody ate any of his stew the night before...

Lyna was still unsure of what to do about her rather inappropriate attraction to the assassin. After all, the only reason they had met was because he had been hired to kill her only two weeks before. Not only that, but according to his many stories, he was a shameless womanizer who frequently slept with his targets before killing them. While she trusted him, and counted him a friend, his stories did have a certain theme to them, one that implied that even though he would not kill her, he'd end up leaving her. And she didn't want him to leave, she enjoyed his company too much. No, better to attempt to maintain their current relationship.

With that in mind, Lyna slipped out of her tent and went to sit next to one of the oaks lining the clearing where they had made camp. So focused was she that the Warden did not notice the questioning glances of her companions; Zevran in particular was curious as to what the slender archer was up to, his eyes following her as she sat with her back to the tree, legs crossed with her palms flat on the ground by her sides. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, enjoying the feel of the morning breeze as she attempted to focus her mind, sinking into her meditations. She would _not _blush furiously every time he spoke or she caught a glimpse of him, nor would she dwell incessantly on the feel of his lips on her skin. She would focus on the mission. The Warden felt peace welling up through her center, revelling in her connection with the soil under her fingers and the strength of the oak against her back.

* * *

**Zevran**

Zevran and Leliana shared a glance as Lyna slipped out of her tent rather later then usual. Alistair just shrugged and kicked down his tent, crumpling it up into a messy ball so he could pack it away. Most days, the Dalish Warden was the first to wake and greet the day; she was last today, and the elf just stepped gracefully out of her tent and made her way to the edge of the clearing without a word before sitting down with her back against a large oak.

Leliana murmured that she was going to go wash up, but the Antivan hardly noticed, so fixed was he on the Warden. She was sitting with her palms flat against the dirt, leaning against the tree with her head tossed back and her violet eyes closed. At first, she looked rather tense... but almost immediately she relaxed. Suddenly, the morning sun broke through the trees and fell upon her, lighting her up, and Zevran swore she gave a faint sigh of contentment. She sat that way for perhaps ten minutes, completely still, and Zevran found himself unable to look away. She looked so very peaceful.

Zevran found himself wishing he was able to feel half as peaceful as she looked. He had spent at least two hours tossing in his tent, unable to sleep after he had left her the previous night. All he could think about was the texture of her skin, the color of her eyes after he kissed her... and god the taste of her, like honey on his tongue. _He was going mad_. And Leliana wasn't helping. Though he was quite sure it was unintentional, the bard had used honey in whatever it was she had made the camp for breakfast this morning. _Blasted women..._ The assassin was sure he was losing his mind. Perhaps he was dead and this... this infatuation was some form of hellish torture. He could not... would not remember the last time a woman had affected him so...

* * *

**Lyna**

Lyna could feel eyes upon her as she slowly came out of her meditation. She felt at peace for the first time in two weeks, and when she opened her eyes and saw Zevran looking at her, she only smiled, managing somehow not to blush.

The slender elf stood, dusting off her hands, and went to go dismantle her tent; she wanted to get the chore done before she sat down for breakfast.

"Do you require any assistance with that, my dear Warden?" Lyna glanced at the Antivan over her shoulder, smiling again. "No, that's not necessary, lethalline. Enjoy your breakfast." She turned back to her careful dismantling and thought she heard him stand and move towards her. Lyna felt his hand brush her arm, goosebumps forming briefly, as he came to stand beside her.

* * *

**Zevran**

Zevran felt a faint twinge when the woman called him lethalline again. Friendship. He was growing rather fond of the idea, but he certainly didn't intend to let things lay at just friendship. He stood and walked towards her, his hand grazing the skin of her arm. He lowered his voice to a near whisper as he moved to help her take down the tent, "Ah, but it would be my _pleasure_ to help you with this task." _Ah!_ Delightful blush accomplished. And now he felt ready to begin the day.

_...six days later_

The Antivan was sitting by a campfire, leaning back against a rough log, not really paying attention as an elf with tattoos resembling a bow and arrow told some nearby children a story. They had found one of the Dalish clans around noon, a little less then a week ago...

_"Andaran atish'an, sister. I am Mithra. What brings you to the outskirts of our camp, and in such unusual company?"_

_ "Aneth ara. I suppose they are somewhat unusual." She straightened slightly, her shoulders squared. "I am Lyna Mahariel, of the Grey Wardens. We have things to speak of with the Keeper."_

Much had happened in the past six days, and Zevran could not help but dwell on recent events as he tried not to stare at one of the nearby aravels. Instead, he gazed into the fire. Upon reaching the camp, the Warden and her companions had immediately been brought before the Keeper, an elf who seemed young and old at the same time. The man, named Zathrian, had told them about the werewolves and how they needed to cure their hunters of the curse if they were to be in any position to honor the ancient treaties. Lyna had immediately volunteered to help, selecting Sten, Morrigan and Zevran to accompany her into the depths of the forest, looking for a cursed wolf called Witherfang...

_Zevran stood ready in a half crouch behind the Warden to her right, his sword and dagger in hand. Sten was on the slender archer's left, his massive sword held low, and Morrigan stood several feet away, behind them all, leaning on her gnarled staff as if bored. Lyna was sighting down an arrow at a tattooed werewolf, but she had not fired, and had signaled for her companions to make no moves unless she did. The werewolf spoke, demanding that the Dalish elf leave the forest, threatening her. Zevran's hands were white-knuckled on his weapons, his golden eyes narrow as he watched the exchange. The Warden's voice was calm when she told the creature that she did not wish to fight, but she could not go back. And then the werewolves were leaving, bounding off into the forest and disappearing into the trees._

The assassin sighed and tilted his head back, resting it on the log as he reclined by the fire. He rubbed absently at a freshly healed wound on his left arm; the skin was pale white, scar tissue that would heal completely in a few days. The scar looked like some vicious animal had taken a bite out of him. He remembered the lance of fire down his spine, as if poison ran through his veins, the faint quiver of fear when he realized he was probably infected with the curse...

_The assassin stumbled against a large boulder and brought his hand up to clutch at his left arm as a bolt of fire lanced through it, a pained gasp escaping his lips before he could stifle it. He saw Lyna whip her head around, her violet eyes going wide when she saw how he gripped his arm, his face no doubt a grimace of pain. Zevran straightened and shifted his weight so his left arm was slightly out of her view as he struggled to slip a self-assured mask into place, not wanting her to worry. She wasn't buying it and rushed over, Morrigan and Sten looking back along the path with mirrored, impassive expressions. She moved around to examine the wound, taking in the sloppy job he'd done of bandaging it. She saw the shape of the injury and lifted her eyes to meet his, horror evident as her eyes shifted to a pale lavender. "Zevran," she whispered, "Why didn't you tell me... us, you were injured? Was it..." She had paused then, unable to finish the thought. He nodded slightly, gratified by her concern, but worried still about his condition. If they didn't hurry... "Yes, it was a werewolf..." Lyna shuddered and lifted her right hand to touch the side of his face. "I'll fix it, I promise."_

Zevran blinked as a pair of pale blue eyes swam into focus, upside-down and peering at him with concern. "Oh. Hello, lovely Leliana. Was there something you wanted?" He donned a mask of impassivity as she walked around the log to sit next to him, a couple feet to his left.

"Oh, no. No not really. I was just wondering if you had heard anything." The bard chewed on her lip as she stared glanced over at the closest aravel, her brow furrowed and her eyes worried.

The assassin clenched his jaw and did his best to hide his own concern, his eyes fixed on the fire. Feigning nonchalance, he said, "Ah, no. It seems us lowly rogues are unfit to hear such news. Or perhaps there has been no change. Alas, I know not." He cursed himself silently when he heard the faint strains of bitterness in his voice.

_Zevran winced and dragged himself to his feet, lifting his gaze in time to see one of the large walking trees slam its foot into the slender archer, causing her to sail across the ruined room and impact with a broken pillar; a loud cracking sound accompanied the impact, and Zevran felt a coldness in his chest as the delicate Warden crumpled to the ground, her bow several feet a way from her outstretched hand. He snarled and leapt up, whirling around as his golden eyes sought out the man ultimately responsible. He had dropped his dagger at some point, but he still had his sword; he charged at Zathrian, startling the elf out of his casting as the assassin viciously bludgeoned the caster to the ground. And as suddenly as it had begun, the fight was over. The Antivan grabbed the Keeper by the back of his robes and dragged him bodily over to where the strange wolf-creature and her werewolf friends were coming out of their paralysis. Zevran did not want to turn around, did not want to look towards the broken pillar..._

Zevran started when he felt a hand brush his arm. He looked over to see that Leliana had leaned over, concern and sympathy written in her eyes. Her voice soft, the bard said, "I'm sure she will be alright, Zevran. The stories say that the magic users of the Dalish are very powerful in healing."

He said nothing, slipping his mask back into place as he returned to his contemplation of the flames.

_The Antivan stood with his arms folded tightly against his chest, ignoring the searing pain the action caused, unable to turn around as he watched Zathrian, on his knees as the strange 'Lady of the Forest' did her best to convince the wrathful Keeper to undo his curse. The former Crow felt the curse burning its way through his veins, but did not care. His mind was focused solely on the crumpled heap behind him, but he could not look... so instead he stared hatefully at the elf responsible. So focused was he that he did not hear the soft gasp from Morrigan at his side, or the sound of feet dragging on the ground behind him. Nor did he notice the gaze of the werewolves shifting to look towards the broken pillar where the Warden had collapsed. As such, he was entirely unprepared when Lyna stepped past him, his own lost dagger in hand, and grasped Zathrian by the back of his robes. She shoved the dagger under his chin, forcing his head back, and hissed into his ear._

_ "Haven't you done enough harm, Zathrian? It is our people who suffer now. You say that werewolves are only as savage as their own nature, but if that is true, then elves are no different then the shemlen, since OUR people now suffer from your damned curse as well. You will end this curse if I have to force you to do it myself." She paused, her eyes cold and pale in her fury. "You will __**not**__ cost me one of __**my **__people, so you will break this curse, Zathrian, or by Elgar'nan I will see to it that you suffer a thousand times the agony you have inflicted with your plague before you end." _

_With that, she shoved the Keeper forward, standing swiftly and swaying slightly. The man had looked at her, clearly pained by the venom in her words. He nodded slowly, saying something about how perhaps it was time, then stood and picked up his staff. Zevran was barely paying attention, his eyes fixed on Lyna's form. She was favoring one side, his dagger held limply in her right hand as she watched the keeper turn his gaze towards the Lady, who had been shocked into silence by the fury of the Warden. The spirit stepped forward, accepting the brief caresses from the werewolves nearest to her, smiling as the Keeper raised his staff and struck it against the ground, a brilliant white glow flaring up, moving like smoke and weaving around his body._

Zevran closed his eyes briefly, wincing slightly. Like liquid fire in his veins, the curse had left him, leaving him with a pounding headache. He remembered the shocked and relieved expressions as the werewolves glowed and shifted into human form, their grateful thanks before they had left the ruins at a run...

_Lyna stood over the dead Zathrian, the cured werewolves long gone, her eyes fixed on his face. She swayed again and Zevran tensed, ready to catch her if she fell. After several moments, she had turned slowly and took a single step towards Zevran before she stumbled. He was moving before his mind even registered it, his hands steadying her, keeping her upright. She winced and looked up at him, her eyes still a pale lavender. He heard her whisper, "Did it work, Zevran?" He nodded slightly, trying to reassure her that he would be fine. The assassin heard Sten say something about how they should get moving, and he felt Morrigan moving to examine the Warden, but all he could think of was how she was trembling, and how all the blood had drained from her face. She looked frail. He heard the clang as she dropped his dagger, and he heard himself cry out as her eyes rolled up into her head as she fell unconscious. He did not allow her to fall though. The assassin carried her back to the Dalish camp, his chest tight, refusing to allow Sten to assist him. Morrigan was no healer, but she did what she could to stabilize the slender elf. Zevran felt like he was in a daze, but he could still see the faint pain in the witch's pale amber eyes. Suddenly he knew why Lyna spent so much time talking to the woman. Lethalline. The Dalish Warden could befriend anyone, it seemed._

* * *

**Leliana**

Leliana was worried about her friend, but instead of staring at the aravel where several elves were still frantically working over the fallen Warden, she found herself watching Zevran. He was half-reclining against a log, his legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles. His arms were draped over the log, his lean muscles relaxed; he gave off every indication that he was unconcerned and completely at ease... unless you looked at his eyes. While his face was impassive as he stared at the fire, his eyes gave away his inner turmoil. He was just as worried as she was, perhaps more so. The bard had not tried to comfort him again, sensing that he wanted to be alone with his thoughts; she simply sat near the fire, studying the strange man.

She was surprised to see how upset he was by Lyna's condition, but then, perhaps she shouldn't be. Leliana had seen how the two were growing closer since the assassin had joined them, though she had no idea how close exactly. She was the first of those companions left at the Dalish camp to see their return, three days after they had left to do the Keepers bidding. They had returned looking battered, and though everyone knew they had been successful in their task as the hunters were clearly recovering, celebrations had been immediately called off. Lyna was badly injured, bloody and cradled in the Antivan assassins arms. She had apparently been unconscious for about a day - the timing coincided with the onset of the elves recovery - and Zevran, his eyes glazed, had almost been unwilling to let her go and give her into the care of the healers. That was two days ago, and so far nobody knew if the Warden would recover.

Alistair had gone into a panic when he had seen her, despair coloring his features, and even Shale had looked concerned. Talin had howled mournfully and refused to leave his post just outside the aravel, refusing all food offered to him. Sten was impassive and quiet as ever, easily giving a detailed account of what had occurred since neither Morrigan or Zevran seemed inclined to speak. Leliana glanced over at Zevran again, wondering at Lyna's seemingly miraculous ability to befriend just about anyone. She even got along with Morrigan, who was cold with everyone but the slender Dalish Warden. Suddenly, Leliana started, her eyes fixed on Talin, drawing Zevran's attention.

* * *

**Zevran**

Zevran was lost in thought, his mind dwelling on how fragile Lyna had felt in his arms when he carried her to the camp. He felt more then heard when Leliana flinched and leaned forward sharply. He looked at her and found the bard was staring towards the landship where they worked on Lyna. His heart suddenly pounding, he whipped his head around to follow her gaze, and found that Talin had moved from his vigil, his eyes fixed on the door and his stubby tail wagging furiously. Finally, Morrigan stepped out, looking drained, and made her way over to the fire. Several elves stepped out after her, all of them looking rather exhausted as they wandered off to different parts of the camp. Zevran was staring at the witch, waiting to see some sign of either grief or relief on her face. She threw herself down on a bench with a faint grunt and rubbed her hand over her face. She looked up to see Leliana and Zevran both staring at her and gave one of her little laughs. Zevran felt his heart stop, sure he was about to hear something horrible.

"Oh don't look at me like that, tis most disturbing. She's going to be fine." And with that, the witch twisted slightly to lay down on the bench, throwing a slender arm across her eyes in fatigue. Zevran let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his heart slowly resuming it's natural rhythm. He shared a relieved glance with Leliana before forcing himself to relax against the log again, doing his best not to give in to the urge to leap up and rush into the aravel where she was recovering.

* * *

_I think one more chapter should do it for this one._


	4. Waterfall

_Chapter 4! This one was tricksy for me. I knew how I wanted to start it and I had a good idea how it was going to end, but then I had to fill in all the middle bits. The horror! _

_Disclaimer: As always, Bioware owns everything good, including Dragon age and Zevran and all that stuff._

**

* * *

**

**Zevran**

It had been a day since Morrigan had informed everyone that Lyna would recover, but the Warden had still not woken up. The Dalish camp was busy, elves constantly running around getting supplies together, making weapons, training. Preparing for war. Zevran, feeling tense enough without the added stress of war preparations, decided to find a place to think, well away from camp. He needed time to consider... things. One thing the assassin did not want, however, was to stir the camp and have people go looking for him when he went missing, so he made sure to tell Leliana he was going. He then asked around to see if any of the Dalish knew of an appropriate location for... soul searching. He didn't use those words, obviously, but they seemed to get his meaning. One of the hunters suggested a clearing about a half-hour walk away from the camp. He said it was perfect for clearing thoughts.

So it was that the Antivan found himself stalking through the woods at midday, his sword and dagger strapped to his back, and a small pouch of food - lunch, and maybe dinner - on his belt. He stepped into the clearing and blinked in surprise. _Well now..._

The clearing was about twenty feet across, the ground covered in soft grass spotted with little patches of wildflowers. Sunlight filtered down through the large gaps in the canopy, giving the air a golden glow; but what captured his attention was the pool of crystal clear water that took up half the clearing, a large waterfall cascading down a rocky slate-grey cliff. The waterfall was only about thirty feet high - quite a bit shorter then the trees - but it was magnificent. The water misted, making rainbows and occasionally sending out a spray of water that sparkled in the air like jewels; Zevran felt a stab of sadness that Lyna was not here._ She would love this place._

The assassin shook his head, trying not to think of Lyna and her... condition. He shrugged out of his weapon harness and dropped his equipment next to the pool; he lay down on the soft grass, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, and put both hands behind his head as he gazed up at the trees. Their leaves fluttered gently in the faint breeze, lit from behind by the midday sun. Yes, Lyna would love it here_. Maybe once she woke up... _Zevran bit off the thought. He did not come all the way out here to dwell on the wounded archer. And yet, he could not seem to keep his thoughts from straying towards her. He remembered the almost painful relief he had felt when Morrigan had told them she would be fine.

Zevran closed his eyes with a sigh, finally accepting that he would not be able to banish the Warden from his thoughts. He found everything about her captivating, from her skill in battle, her movements graceful, to the delightful way she blushed when he flirted rather shamelessly with her. The Antivan let his thoughts linger on the softness of her skin, the dark blue-violet of her eyes on that marvelous night a week or so ago when he'd stolen that first kiss. And third kiss. And fourth, actually. He smirked to himself, thinking about how she had melted against him. He let his mind drift, imaging what she would feel like with those long legs wrapped around him, moving beneath him, her rosy lips gasping out his name... _Ah, pleasant daydreams..._

* * *

**Lyna**

Lyna woke slowly, feeling disoriented and stiff. Her chest was tight as if someone had placed a large weight there, and she could not remember where she was or how she had gotten there. She lay silently for a few moments, her eyes closed, when suddenly she heard the faint sound of people speaking in elvish. Her eyes snapped open.

_Inside an aravel? The clan. Witherfang!... Oh gods, Zevran!?_

Lyna struggled to sit, needing to see if he was alright or if she'd already lost him to the curse. She felt the bandages wrapped tightly around her chest, the bindings on her right arm. She couldn't remember much of the last few minutes in the forest ruins; she recalled getting kicked by the sylvan, the searing pain of broken ribs and the clatter as she dropped her bow. The Warden remembered dragging herself to her feet, how everyone was looking at the damned Keeper Zathrian and the Lady of the Forest. She remembered the weight of Zevran's dagger in her hand, sending shooting pains up her arm. Was it broken too? She recalled the hurt in Zathrian's eyes as she hissed into his ear... But did he do as she demanded? Did he break the curse or had she failed to save the hunters... failed to save her friend_. _Again. _Damnit_, she could not remember.

The Dalish Warden groaned quietly, pain lancing through her chest as she tried to get up. She felt movement nearby and a hand on her shoulder, trying to get her to stay in bed. She looked up. _Alistair. _He looked tired, both worried and relieved at the same time. She relaxed slightly, feeling her ribs creak as she settled back down.

Clearing her throat, which felt exceptionally dry - _how long had she been out? _- the Warden looked to her brother and asked, "What happened?"

He smiled faintly and sat back down, rubbing absently at the back of his neck. "You had us all worried, you know." He paused, looking less concerned now that she was speaking. He handed her a cup of water and joked, "Good thing you're going to be ok or I'd have to lead us to victory all by myself! You _know_ that bad things happen when** I** lead. We get lost, people die, and the next thing you know I'm stranded somewhere... without any pants!"

Lyna chuckled, the water soothing on her throat. Her violet eyes were fixed on Alistair, and he seemed to sense that she wanted more details.

"Well, from what Sten told us, you fought your way to some sort of forest spirit lady, and then you forced Zathrian - at knife point, apparently - to undo the werewolf thing. And then you collapsed and they brought you back here. You broke a couple ribs, your arm, and you had some pretty nasty cuts all over. Probably from evil banshees or ghost dogs or something." He must have seen her jaw clench and he hurried to elaborate, "Yes, the curse is lifted. Everyone who was infected has recovered. Faster the you did, I might add."

She dropped her eyes to her lap, trusting Alistair but feeling the need to ask a more specific question. Her voice dropped down to a whisper when she finally spoke, "And... is Zevran alright? He was bitten on the way in and..." She could feel her fellow Warden staring at her but did not look up.

* * *

**Alistair**

Alistair stared at the slender elf swathed in bandages. Normally, being in such close proximity with a pretty female dressed in so very little would have made him very uncomfortable, bringing a horrible blush to his cheeks, but Lyna was like a sister. A crazy sister with pointy ears and tattoos across half her face._ Did those hurt? _They must have hurt... oh right. She was talking. Did she just ask about the _assassin?!_

He cleared his throat and said, "Yes, the assassin is fine. I didn't even know he got bit. I suppose one of the healers must have seen to the wound... He hasn't sprouted fur and giant teeth or anything, if that's what you're asking." He paused, noting the way she seemed to relax at his words. Alistair frowned.

"What do you see in him, anyway? He was sent here to kill us, you know. You don't _really _trust him, do you?"

Lyna's head flew up and she met his gaze, responding without hesitation. "Yes." They both blinked. Well at least she looked just as surprised as he felt... He shook his head and shrugged. "Well fine. If you trust him then I suppose I can give him a chance." Alistair grinned when she beamed at him, violet eyes sparkling, looking pleased with his statement.

"Well, I should let you rest. I promised Leliana I'd tell her as soon as you woke." Alistair stood with a grin and went to leave, but tripped over something and fell gracelessly out of the aravel. He shook his head as he got up, embarrassed and blushing, but glad to hear the melodic, ringing laughter in the aravel behind him.

* * *

**Lyna**

Lyna absolutely refused to stay in the aravel. It was a little after midday; the healers had been in to see her shortly after Alistair had left - the Warden giggled again when she pictured his feet going up over his head as he fell out of the landship - and she felt perfectly fit, if a little stiff. They had recommended that she stay in bed for at least another day, but she was adamant, and they had relented. After all, if not for her and her companions, they would have lost half the clan to werewolves by now.

The Warden immediately sought out her friends, checking on each of them to make sure they were well. Talin was the first to greet her, since he was sitting right outside the aravel. He jumped up and tried to lick her entire face, which she tried to avoid with flailing arms and merry laughter. Alistair had run over, immediately scolding her for being out of bed and grabbing the huge mabari, scolding him as well for jumping all over the slender Warden. Sten was terse as always, but seemed pleased with her recovery. Shale commented that she was glad 'It' was feeling better, saying she would have shed a single tear if 'It' had ended up as a messy stain on the rocks. Morrigan surprised her by actually hugging her when the elf had come upon the woman. She looked embarrassed afterwards, so Lyna hadn't said anything about it. Leliana, of course, also hugged her, looking positively bubbly when Lyna finally tracked her down.

And then she had gone searching for Zevran. The Warden hadn't meant to track him down last. In fact, she wanted to find him first, wanted to confirm that he was ok after their ordeal in the forest, but she couldn't find him anywhere. So she went back to Leliana, who was the one companion least likely to make some snarky remark about the assassin when she asked after him.

"Oh, yes! In fact, he made a point to tell me he was going to be in the forest for a while today. None of us expected you to wake up, you see, and I think he wanted to be alone for awhile. I was actually rather surprised he told me at all, but I think he just didn't want anyone to panic when we found he was missing. You know, because he is an assassin." Leliana stared at Lyna, who was grinning at her and trying not to laugh. "Oh, there I go, rambling on again. I think he asked some of the hunters if there was anywhere close where he could go without finding trouble."

Lyna giggled at the bard, amused by her enthusiasm, and said, "Thank you Leliana. I'll ask around." She turned and had taken a few steps when Leliana put her hand on the elf's arm. The Warden glanced at her with a curious expression, noting the faint smile on the humans face.

"He was very concerned, you know. He tried to hide it, but I could see. He will be glad to see you, I think."

* * *

**Zevran**

_...two hours later_

Zevran suppressed a flinch, realizing he must have dozed off. He was still laying on the soft grass next to the sparkling pond, his eyes closed and his hands under his head. He silently cursed himself for his unacceptable lapse and wondered what had woken him. He heard nothing beyond the sound of the waterfall and the cheery sound of birdsong in the forest; something had pulled him from his sleep though, so he listened carefully for any clues, not moving to give away his awareness.

A full minute passed, and he heard nothing amiss, so the assassin began to relax... until he heard a faint laugh just behind him. Or was it a giggle? It didn't matter, someone was clearly there. Zevran was about to leap to his feet and face the threat when he heard an unexpected voice, lilting and melodic... and amused. He froze.

"You know, I thought assassins were supposed to be hard to sneak up on..." The assassin's eyes stayed firmly closed as he tried to calm himself. Lyna was ok. She was awake and well enough to go traipsing through the woods, at least. Why was she here? _Surely she wasn't just looking for him_... he felt a flash of unexpected guilt. What if she was just looking for him? What if she'd injured herself further because he was out in the woods for no good reason? He sighed and opened his eyes, leaning up slightly to get a look at her.

Unsurprisingly, she had managed to silently make her way around to his side without his notice. She was kneeling a few feet away, her delicate hands resting on her knees. He looked her over, trying to assure himself that she was fine; he was so focused on his goal that he didn't even notice her doing the same thing. Her hair was loose, the ebony locks framing her delicate face and spilling across her shoulders, and she was wearing a long dusky-purple tunic over dark leggings. She looked paler then usual, dark circles under her violet eyes. He noticed that she had a bandage on her right arm, and he frowned.

"Ah, but you should be more careful, my dear Warden. You were rather seriously injured, you know." Zevran lifted his gaze and found her staring at him intently, her violet eyes lighter then normal. He felt a flash of surprise when she whispered, "Are... you alright?"

The Warden's eyes flickered towards his left arm before meeting his gaze again, and he realized she was trying to confirm that he wasn't going to turn into a feral beast, all teeth and hair. She came out here, clearly still weak after her injury, just to see if he was ok? If being _lethalline_ meant she would be taking such risks, he didn't know if he wanted the title. Still frowning, Zevran nodded and sat up the rest of the way, saying, "Oh yes, quite alright. I imagine that it will take a bit more then one small bite to do me in, as it were."

And suddenly Lyna had her arms around him, her face buried against his shoulder and her slender body pressed against him. Zevran froze briefly, his eyes wide in shock, then returned the embrace, his muscled arms curling comfortably around her narrow waist. He felt her trembling as she whispered, "Oh thank Mythal... I was so worried and nobody knew where you had gone and..." She leaned back suddenly, hitting his shoulder with a dainty fist, a frown on her face. "Don't you ever do that to me again!" He blinked in confusion as she hugged him again, her arms sliding back around his neck. Zevran was having a hard time gathering his thoughts, distracted alternatively by her words and behaviour, and then the soft sensation of her in his arms, the flowery scent of her hair. He wasn't sure what to make of her outburst, his upbringing leaving him with no experience with such a display of concern; at least, not when the person had nothing to gain by such a display.

_...eight hours later_

Zevran was back in the Dalish camp, reclining on his bedroll, trying to figure out what was going on between him and Lyna. It was easier to focus now that she was in her own tent instead of right there with her soft arms and wildflower scent... The assassin shook his head. He absolutely could not decipher what Lyna was hoping to get from him. He had already promised his sword, and she didn't seem inclined - at least not to the point where it was her driving goal - to use him as a... a bed-warmer, as suggested... So what was she after? It was maddening. He could not understand her. Zevran thought back to their time in the forest clearing. Once she had finally calmed down enough to stop alternating between hugging and hitting him, the two elves had settled back and stayed in the clearing for some time, talking about this and that and sharing the food he had brought. Neither seemed inclined to discuss what had passed in the forest ruins or Lyna's outburst. The Antivan closed his eyes with a faint smirk, deciding to get some sleep, as an image flickered across his eyelids...

_Lyna stood under the waterfall, the crystalline water of the pool rising to just below her waist, her back turned and her face tilted up into the spray; she was running her fingers through her wet hair, pushing it back off her face, causing the bared muscles in her back to stretch and flex. Zevran sat on the bank of the pool, shamelessly staring at the slender elf. She had asked him to turn around while she bathed, but he certainly wasn't about to miss an opportunity like this. He felt his pulse quicken as the water sluiced down her pale skin, the sunlight flashing off the surface of the pool. The Antivan wanted to join her, but he knew she wouldn't allow it. Not yet anyway. For now, he'd have to settle for entrancing visuals and a few stolen kisses._

_The Warden twisted slightly and glanced at him over her shoulder, a blush coloring her cheeks when she saw him watching, and flashed him an amused smile. "You are a very bad man, Zevran of Antiva."_

* * *

**Lyna**

Lyna lay in her tent, her left arm thrown delicately across her eyes as she tried to sleep. She knew they were supposed to be getting an early start the next day, since Redcliffe was a few weeks travelling from the Dalish camp, even going along the old Imperial Highway. And yet, she couldn't seem to still her mind and banish the image of a certain handsome elf from her mind.

_Lyna lifted her arms and closed her eyes before turning her face into the spray of the delightfully cool waterfall; she pushed her hair back from her face and let the water run down her unclothed form, humming quietly to herself. She suspected the assassin wasn't exactly honoring her request to not watch, but the pool was far too inviting to ignore for modesty's sake. She stretched slightly, letting the cool water soothe her tired muscles, then glanced over her shoulder to where she'd left Zevran sitting on the bank of the pool. **Of course** he was watching her... but his eyes... The Warden blushed. The assassin's golden eyes were almost predatory as he watched her, his muscles slightly tense as he reclined on the soft grass __like some sort of hunting cat__. Lyna shuddered slightly under his gaze, fighting off the sudden desire to turn and invite him to join her. Instead, she flashed him a faint smile and said, "You are a very bad man, Zevran of Antiva."_

Zevran had turned his head at her request when she went to exit the pool, but she couldn't seem to ignore the look in his beautiful eyes when he looked at her, even after she had re-dressed... Lyna groaned and rolled over, burying her face in the small pillow. As she finally drifted off to sleep, she wondered if perhaps she should just bed the man and get her foolish obsession out of her system...

* * *

_That's it for this one. Yeah, I have no idea how long it would actually take to get to Redcliffe from inside the forest, but I need a few weeks so they have time to progress their relationship to where I need it... so that's how long it's going to take. :P_

_I'm probably going to do at least a little one for Redcliffe with some flashbacks of their time travelling there. If anyone was wondering, according to the time line I've got in my head for this series of stories, they pick up Zevran, go find the Dalish, go to Redcliffe and lift the siege, then go to the Mage tower (and back to Redcliffe to save Conner), then the Urn, then Orzammar. Then the Landsmeet and all that other stuff._


End file.
